Sleepless in DC
by mabelreid
Summary: One shot scene addition to "Two Steps Back." Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU is having trouble sleeping, and so is Abby Scuito, resulting in a late conversation at Reid's apartment. Established REID/ABBY AU


**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

 ** _A/n this one shot takes place during "Two Steps Back." I assume there was at least a day between Abby's confrontation with King and when she told the team she'd be going home with Clay and leaving NCIS. This is what happened in between with Dr. Spencer Reid of Criminal Minds. I'm imagining them in an established relationship._**

Spencer Reid leaned against the sharp edge of his window ledge overlooking the city street outside his apartment. He sipped a cup of tea instead of his usual high-octane coffee as he watched the occasional vehicle splash through pools of streetlamp brightened rainwater lying on the blacktop. The pools shimmered and danced as the rain fell, and if he suspended disbelief for a few moments, he could believe moonlight lit the streets, instead of streetlights.

Spencer sighed and brushed a hand through his hair. The clock in his bedroom had read 2:07 am when he'd finally given up on sleep and wandered into the living area wearing only baggy blue and white striped sleep pants and an old white tee-shirt. His bare feet warmed the hardwood floor where he stood, and he shivered a bit in the air generated by his central AC. He didn't move, because, despite the hour, he expected a visitor.

As if his thoughts summoned her to him, a cab, not an overeager Uber driver, but a yellow cab pulled to the curb in front of his building. He watched as a woman dressed entirely in black, stepped out, raised her umbrella, also black, paid the driver and hurried through the rain to the entrance. Spencer turned from the window, his heart pounding with a mix of dread, excitement, love, and rage. He waited almost impatiently for her to knock, and when she tapped on the door, he hurried forward and wrenched it open.

"Hi," she said, and tears slid down her flushed cheeks.

Spencer gently tugged her inside, careful of the sling on her right arm. He shut the door, studied her black hair, which hung down straight over her shoulders, instead of in its usual pigtails. She wore a black hoodie, black jeans, and combat boots. She didn't wear makeup, and her eyes bore signs of a lack of sleep.

"Hi," Spencer said, and he kissed her gently on the mouth.

"I'm sorry –"

"Don't," Spencer interrupted as he led her to the couch.

Abby Scuito dropped her umbrella and her huge black bag on the floor. She sat and studied her boots instead of meeting his eyes.

"I sometimes wonder if you're too good to be true," Abby commented with a forced laugh. "I call you at two in the morning because I can't sleep and my arm aches like a rotten tooth. The first words out of your mouth, are "Abby, get on the train and come to me."

"I said it because I meant it. I heard the pain in your voice, Abby. I don't like to see or hear you suffer. I love you."

Abby sighed and leaned into his shoulder. "I love you, too, profiler.

Spencer grinned at her name for him. "Tell me," he said.

Abby pulled back and sniffed. "I will… just let me look at you for a moment." She reached into the pocket of her hoodie and extracted a black lace handkerchief that Spencer knew she'd made from Victorian-era lace.

Spencer waited as she studied him. She always looked at him with eyes that held mysteries he couldn't solve, despite his wealth of profiling experience. He often wished he were as much an enigma to her.

"I was lying there, tossing and turning and I couldn't stop thinking about King and what I did to him."

"Abby, you did what you had to do."

"I know… it's just – I told him that sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to right a wrong."

Spencer rubbed a hand down her unhurt shoulder and nodded his head. "Yeah. _Sometimes_ you have to leap into the abyss instead of looking into it."

"I'm not in the mood for Nietzche right now, Spencer. _How_ do I make you understand?"

"I do understand, more than you know."

Abby stood up and went to his chess table. She picked up the black queen and made a move in Spencer's unfinished game. "I don't think you do. You'd never feel this way about killing someone."

"First," Spencer said, as he joined her at the chess table and made another move in the game. "You didn't kill him. You only suggested he might die, coupled with a mega dose of caffeine. His mind did the rest, Abby. If he hadn't believed what you told him, your plan would've failed. Second, you're the kindest, gentlest, most loving person I know. You're incapable of murder, even by proxy. You would've given him the antidote even if he'd refused to confess."

Abby gave him a long, hard look and something in her green eyes startled him to the core. "No," she choked out. "I wouldn't have because he killed Clay and I've had it. You think I'm not sleeping because of what I did."

Spencer nodded in confusion, and she sighed. "Spencer, I'm not sleeping because I enjoyed it. I _liked_ seeing the look on his face when he thought he was going to die. I have absolutely no guilt at all. I did it for Clay and for all the friends and heroes I've lost in the last sixteen years. I thank God you were on a case that night and couldn't go with me instead of Clay. If he'd killed you –"

Abby trailed off and began to sob. Spencer pulled her carefully into his arms and let her cry until she pushed him away. "I'm here," he said gently. "I understand more than you know, Abby. You know all my secrets. You know what I did in prison."

"Spencer."

"Don't," he shushed her and led her back to the sofa. "Don't say it. Don't look at me with your beautiful eyes and tell me it's not the same thing. It _is_ the same thing. I enjoyed hurting those inmates because they took away my friend, and they would've killed me."

Abby sighed and wiped at her eyes with her handkerchief. One of her hands rose to fidget with the thin dog collar around her neck. "I'm so tired, Spencer. I want to sleep and not think about going to the UK with Clay. I have to do it for him, but I'm so wiped out."

"I wish you'd let me go, or if not me, Ducky or Gibbs, or Tim."

"I can't. I have to do this on my own, Spencer. Can you understand?"

"Yes. I love you for it. I bless the day Tim set us up on a blind date last year."

Abby finally smiled, and Spencer saw the woman he'd come to love dearly over the last six months. "Yeah, that was an amazing Halloween."

"It was the best I've spent in years."

They sat for a long time, not speaking but looking at each other with eyes that saw faults, and perfections and every shade of grey in between the shadows and light. "Look, it's either very late or very early. I'll make up the couch for me, and you can sleep in my bed."

Abby raised her eyebrows. "No, I don't want to sleep alone, Spencer."

"You just got out of the hospital, and you've had a lousy day. I'm not making you sleep on the couch, and I don't think us together is a good idea."

"Afraid you won't be able to control yourself," Abby teased.

Spencer rolled his eyes. "No, I mean yes, I mean, damn it." He burst out laughing. "All right, at least it's more comfortable than your coffin."

"Why are you complaining," Abby teased. "I remember the first time I suggested you stay the night at my place. You were totally okay with sex in a coffin."

"Abby!"

"There's a sick and twisted side to you, Spencer Reid and I love it."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Don't tell anyone."

"If you promise I can sleep with you tonight."

Spencer grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "I'm fine with that."

"You know what I mean," Abby retorted.

Spencer kissed her. "I have no intention of taking advantage of you in your condition, mental, emotional, or physical. We'll wait until you return from Europe and until your healed. Just promise me we'll keep it out of the coffin for a while. You were nearly killed, and I don't think I can stomach sleeping or making love in that thing. It hits too close to home."

"Agreed," Abby said, and they linked hands. "Let's get some sleep."

CMCMCMCMCM

Spencer turned to his side and looked at Abby who lay with her head on a pillow and another pillow under her injured arm for support. "You feeling better?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Is your arm okay."

"Yes. Everything is wonderful. I don't know what it is about this bed. I usually sleep terribly in a regular bed, but yours is so comfortable, it makes me want to fall right to sleep."

"Then go to sleep," Spencer ordered gently. "We'll talk in the morning."

Abby yawned and reached out with her uninjured hand. "Thank you, Spencer. You always know what to say to me. I'm going to miss you in Europe."

"I'm going to miss you, too. Promise me you'll be safe. I need you in my life, Abby Scuito."

"I promise."

"Then, go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning and again when you get back from your trip."

Abby nodded, and her eyelids fluttered shut. "Love you," she murmured.

"I love you, too. Sleep and dream of puppies and kittens and rainbows."

Spencer turned to his back and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt like he could sleep, and he had his very own gothic angel to thank.


End file.
